


Come to me, I'll tell you all about it

by Itsenoughtime



Series: Letters [1]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: A little bit of angst, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, love and confessions, ocean's eight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsenoughtime/pseuds/Itsenoughtime
Summary: You are the call and I am the answer,You are the wish, and I the fulfillment,You are the night, and I the day.What else—it is perfect enough,It is perfectly complete,You and I.Strange, how we suffer in spite of this!





	Come to me, I'll tell you all about it

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea in mind for a while and decided to write it. might be part of a series maybe, if I move my lazy ass and write more

Dear Debbie,

I’m writing to let you know that I’m ok - just in case you were wondering.

I have made it to a small city called Misser, and I think I’ll spend a couple of days here; the air is clean, the beach is amazing, and there are quite the number of pretty girls I can fest my sight on too .

 

They all seem to have your eyes.

 

I hope you didn’t burn down the kitchen in the five days I’ve been gone. Tell Constance that if I find one scratch on my floor because of her skateboard when I come back she’s paying for it.

 

Love, Lou

 

* * *

 

Dear Lou,

It pains me to say that I’ve been doing just fine till now. There are a lot of take outs restaurants that deliver food right at your front door-more than I remembered. So your kitchen is fine. The alcohol is gone though; the girls have been around often.

I’m glad to hear that you’re fine. Not that it comes much as a surprise.

 

Enjoy the beach, take a deep breath for me too, and don’t miss me too much.

 

Love, Debbie

* * *

 

 

Dear Debbie,

I see you’ve grown up and figured out how to take care of yourself now that I’m not there. I’m happy to know that me going away has brought some good into your life.

I woke up this morning and wished it was your pretty face I was staring at rather than an empty bed.

 

 But don’t get your hopes up; the nice girl at the bakery made me forget all about you when she smiled at me.

 

At least for a minute.

 

 

Say hi to the girls for me.  

 

Love, Lou

 

P.S. I’m sending you a picture of the beach, just so you know what you’re missing.

* * *

 

Dear Lou,

That’s quite the scenery, I’ll admit. The sea is almost as beautiful as your eyes.

 

Days here are pretty boring; I don’t have much to do, the streets look all the same now that you’re not here to explore them with me. But I’ll get by.

 

Tammy is inviting me to her son’s birthday, but I’m not sure I’ll fit in with her friends; there’s not much space for a criminal mastermind in the suburbs, I’m afraid.

 

 

Sometimes the loft is too quiet; sometimes I hear the rumbling of a motorcycle and wish it was you.

 

 

Met Rusty at my brother’s grave; he sends his regards.

 

Love, Debbie.

 

P.S. I’m sending you a picture of my smile, just to remind you that no pretty face in California could ever be better than me.

* * *

 

Dear Debbie,

 

Nothing good’s come out when you were bored. You could start gardening or join a book club; isn’t this what retired people do?

Things here are calm, easy and unfamiliar; I’m not used to this after all. But it’s nice, you know.

 

I sit most days by the beach and wonder- are you seeing it too?

 

Do you see the same sunset as I do?

 

Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

 

Because I miss you, more than you’ll ever know. And there are too many unfamiliar faces, so much to do  and I’m so tired; tired of having to remember every detail, so I could tell you all about it. You are not in prison anymore, Deb; you can see all these things by yourself.  If only you came.

 

You could come, if you wanted to, you know? I could do with some company. I could do so much more with you by my side.  I’ll buy you a helmet.

 

And I don’t want just a photo of your smile, I want the real one.

 

I found a pretty seashell the other day; the colours of it reminded me of your hair in the sun.

I kept it.

 

Love, Lou.

* * *

 

 Dear Lou,

 

You have no idea.

 

The loft is so quiet, and you’re not there, and Stevie Nicks doesn’t sound the same when you’re not singing along.  And I heard the other day Silver Springs on the radio and I wonder – do you think I’m  not letting you love me? Could I be a better partner? Do I make it hard to love and be loved? I don’t know. What I know is that you deserve so much more, and why you are still choosing me after all is hard to understand.

 

You deserve so much more; and you always wanted a trip to California on your bike after all, and you deserve it to be yours.

 

And I’d never say it out loud, but it’s easier when I’m writing; I miss you, so so much.

 

But you deserve this trip to be what you want it to be.

 

So I‘ll keep writing you letters, and I’ll keep on listening to the same records, hoping to hear your voice, and I’ll keep wishing that every motorcycle I hear is yours, and I’ll keep looking at the sky, because the sunset may not be the same, but the stars are.

 

I love you, Debbie.

* * *

 

Dear Debbie,

 

I’ve always wanted a trip to California. With the wind in my face, and your arms around me.

 

With you.

 

But you always think that I don’t want that. That I don’t love you as much. That you don’t deserve to be loved as much.

So let’s do each other a favour; come here. Please.

 

We’ve wasted enough time; we’ve been alone for far too long, apart for even longer.

 

So here is a plane ticket, no return. You’ve got my address written on the back of it.

 

And I’m sending you a ring, that I hope you’ll accept.

 

Be mine, Deborah Ocean.

 

I love you too.

 

 

* * *

 

Dear Lou,

 

Isn’t there a question that comes with the ring and shouldn’t you get down on your knee?

* * *

 

Dear Debbie,

If you want the show then you’ll know where to find me.

I’ll be waiting.

 

 

 


End file.
